Look After You
by cindylouwho38
Summary: Sequel to Denial. House lets his secret out.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Look After You (the sequel to Denial)  
**Disclaimer:** If I owned House, the bill collectors wouldn't be calling me every day, now would they? 

_15 months later_

House was in his office, avoiding clinic duty, and his duckings, as usual. He was half-listening to his iPod, set on random, until he realized he didn't recognize the song; it was something he had never heard before, and definitely something he hadn't put there. He hit the back button and began to listen more carefully.

_And I don't know  
This could break my heart or save me  
Nothing's real  
Until you let go completely  
So here I go with all my thoughts I've been saving  
So here I go with all my fears weighing on me_

Three months and I'm still sober  
Picked all my weeds but kept the flowers  
But I know it's never really over

And I don't know  
I could crash and burn but maybe  
At the end of this road I might catch a glimpse of me  
So I won't worry about my timing, I want to get it right  
No comparing, second guessing, no not this time

Three months and I'm still breathing  
Been a long road since those hands I left my tears in but I know

It's never really over, no

Wake up

Three months and I'm still standing here  
Three months and I'm getting better yeah  
Three months and I still am

Three months and it's still harder now  
Three months I've been living here without you now  
Three months yeah, three months

Three months and I'm still breathing  
Three months and I still remember it  
Three months and I wake up

Three months and I'm still sober  
Picked all my weeds but kept the flowers  
Sober, Kelly Clarkson

House could hardly get through the song without breaking down, breaking something. The lyrics had not even finished when he grabbed his keys and bolted. (He could certainly move when he wanted to!) The only one, who noticed House's exit, was Cameron, and she assumed that he was going to bother Wilson. Even she didn't notice the date on the calendar.


	2. Chapter 2

At 12, Wilson stopped by the diagnostic office to collect House for lunch. He figured that this way he wouldn't be surprised when half of his lunch ended up inside House. He found the three fellows sitting around drinking coffee, and completing various tasks. Chase was completing a crossword, Foreman reading a journal, and Cameron was going through House's mail, the usual when there was no patient.

Cameron looked up at Wilson, wondering why he was there. "Where's House?" he asked. "I thought he was with you. He took off out of here about an hour ago," Cameron answered. Wilson headed over to House's abandoned office. His bag and coat were where he left them this morning, and his iPod was on his desk. He turned back to Cameron. "He didn't say anything?" "No," she replied. "He was listening to his iPod, and then he was gone.

Wilson picked up House's iPod and hit play. He chuckled when he saw he had been listening to Kelly Clarkson, and made a note to use that against him in the future. But for some reason, he started listening to the song. It took him about 20 seconds to know where House was. It was the 17th of February. Three months ago, Cally had died.

Wilson, sighed, grabbed House's jacket and headed back to his own office to grab his own. House was so impulsive, so child like sometimes, taking off in the dead of winter without his jacket on his motorcycle.

Wilson headed for the cemetery and called Cuddy on the way. He knew at this point it was easier to ask for forgiveness rather than permission. He explained the situation briefly and said that most likely neither of them would be back today.


	3. Chapter 3

When Wilson found House at the gravesite, the first thing House noticed was the smell of anti-septic soap. Odd considering he had been out in the cold for who knows how long. The first thing Wilson noticed was how calm House was. He had expected the worst; House drunk or high (most likely) or upset and crying (least likely). But House was just sitting there.

Wilson put House's heavy jacket around his shoulders and let his hands rest there to let House know that he was there for him. Wilson had been expecting something like this to happen. House had never talked about what happened, about his relationship with Cally, or what happened that last day. All he really knew was that Cally had been in an accident three months ago on House's bike. The bike had survived. She hadn't.

House looked up at Wilson. He didn't know how long Wilson had been standing there with his hands on his shoulders. "That last day . . . ." House began, and then paused. Wilson came around and sat down next to House, and House shrugged into his coat. Wilson was surprised that House hadn't pushed him away, he was always so reluctant to any human contact. He must be really cold or really out of it, he thought.

"That last day . . . ." House continued. "Cally said she knew."

"Knew what?"

"That I loved someone more than I loved her."

Wilson looked confused. "She couldn't have meant Stacey. Cally never met her, and you never got into it all with her. It was easier that way for you."

"She didn't mean Stacey."

"Well who then, Cameron?" Wilson said with a contemptuous, yet sarcastic half laugh, half snort.

House gave him a rueful smile.

"Yeah, it's Cameron. You found me out." He rolled his eyes at Wilson. "For someone who is supposed to be so smart, wonder boy oncologist, you certainly lack observing the obvious."

"Well, that I leave to you, the people person." Wilson said in just as a sarcastic tone. But as he finished saying it, recognition clicked in his brain, and flashed across his face. "You don't mean, you d-didn't mean . . ." His voice trailed, off uncertain as to what to say. What he did know was that he didn't want to continue this conversation here, and out in the freezing cold.

"Come on House, let me take you home."

House allowed himself to be led to the car, unsure as to what Wilson was thinking now, now that he had finally put the pieces together. But he was cold, and his leg was starting to ache in an increasing amount, and he just wanted to get warm and take his vicodin.


	4. Chapter 4

When they got in the car, Wilson cranked the heat, realizing House was in an increasing amount of pain, given how he was rubbing his thigh, and that he was starting to shiver. He handed House his vicodin, which he took with a sigh of relief.

The ride home was markedly silent other than the two loud sneezes from House, a "bless you" from Wilson, and something that sounded "like that's what you get," muttered from Wilson under his breath. Wilson finally ended up relinquishing a tissue from his coat pocket, after listening to House sniffle more and more dramatically.

"Thanks." House said quietly.

Wilson glanced at House and was half way through an eye roll, when he stopped. House looked so vulnerable at this point and had opened up in such a way to him at this point, that he didn't want to risk pushing him away, not now.

"You ok?" Wilson asked.

House sniffled. "Yeah. I'll be all right after a shower and some, he paused to sneeze, coffee."

"Bless you."

"Thanks."

Wilson looked at House, and somehow he knew he didn't just mean for the blessing.

They finally arrived back at House's apartment, and both sat there, awkwardly, until they both began to speak at once.

"Do you want . . "

"Wanna come . . ."

That effectively broke the silence, and they both headed inside.


	5. Chapter 5

Wilson headed to the kitchen to make coffee while House headed to the bathroom to shower. While he was showering, House thought of Wilson's hands on his shoulders and imagined them moving lower, touching him where he longed to be touched. He found himself hard almost immediately. He had no problem climaxing quickly, thinking what it would be like to feel those hands on his skin.

While House was showering, Wilson made the coffee and added a liberal amount of whiskey to each mug. He imagined House's lean body in the shower, soaping up his body, and had to quickly think of patients, and other work related things to get himself back under control before House came back out. He was just able to bring himself back under control when House came back out dressed warmly in a heavy sweatshirt and jeans.

The two sat down on the couch, and House eagerly received the steaming mug of coffee. He was surprised, but pleased to smell and taste the whiskey along with the flavorful beans. He also knew he wouldn't be in for a Wilsonesque lecture about mixing his vicodin and alcohol, which he had heard more often than not lately. House just wanted to relax, get fully warm. He was still a bit chilly from the cold, slightly sniffly, not to mention "spent." He just wanted to sit as they were without listening to Wilson "care."

House clicked on the TV and they sat there for some time, watching 'New Yankee Workshop," without really paying attention, the air tense with what had been unsaid. At some point Wilson looked sideways at House, who was intently watching the show, which Wilson knew meant House was deep in thought. He got up and returned with coffee for each of them, once again liberally doused.


	6. Chapter 6

Wilson took a long sip of coffee and turned to face House.

"All right?"

"Yeah." House shrugged as if nothing was on his mind.

"House." Wilson sounded slightly exasperated.

"Wilson." House sounded slightly amused.

"House, we have to talk about . . . this."

"Talk about what? About what you're buying me for dinner? Chinese sounds good."  
"House!" Wilson pinched the bridge of his nose, getting more irritated.

"Seriously. Chinese. I'm starving."

"Fine, but only if we can talk about this."

"Talk. About. What?" House was talking as much amusement as he could get from this as he could get.

"About today, you in the cold at the cemetery, about . . ."

"Wilson . . ."

"No! We, you, I mean what about . . . ." Wilson sputtered to get his words out, increasingly frustrated with House. And then the most extraordinary thing happened.

As Wilson was struggling to get his words out, House leaned over, and kissed him.


	7. Chapter 7

Wilson's senses were immediately on overload. He was aware of House's taste, smell, of how his tongue felt in his mouth all at once. Synapses were firing rapidly in his brain; his heart was racing. It was like being on speed without the aftershock or withdrawal.

House could feel Wilson's heart racing, his skin becoming heated like he was on fire. He could taste the coffee on Wilson's tongue, his lips, as he increased the intensity of each kiss. His own heart was racing, and the pain in his leg was almost, for once, non-existent.

Neither of them were sure how much time had passed when they finally broke apart, if for nothing more than to take in lungfuls of air. Wilson tentatively reached over and ran his palm across House's cheek. Blue eyes met brown, and the realization that no words needed to be spoken. There was no need; the feelings were expressed in the gazes toward one another.

This time it was Wilson who leaned in for the kiss. As he thrust his tongue to meet House's, he swung one leg over, so he was straddling House, avoiding House's right leg as much as possible. He placed his hands on House's shoulders, and could feel House's arms encircle his waist, untucking his shirt, finding skin.

Wilson simultaneously rubbed the remaining tension from House's shoulders while continuing the heated kissing. He could feel House's hands become even more territorial; rubbing up and down his back, and then up his torso, encircling his nipples, feeling them grow hard beneath the touch. Wilson could feel the blood rushing southward, and similarly knew House was feeling the same, as he would occasionally lift his hips to connect with Wilson's aching groin.

Wilson opened his eyes to see House watching him, as if he was memorizing every line and crease on Wilson's face; his eyes were filled with lust and need. House broke the kiss and with one quick movement, moved Wilson so that he was lying face up on the couch, positioning himself on top. Wilson shuddered into the touch, the sudden warmth enveloping him; House's hard member pressed into his own. House hummed into Wilson's mouth causing him to gasp and moan.

Suddenly, House stopped, realizing that as hot as this was, it wasn't so great for his leg. He swung up and off of Wilson and grabbed his cane with one hand, and Wilson's hand with the other. Wilson immediately understood and followed House, his hands never leaving some part of his partner's body. He was touching him everywhere at every chance he got; afraid he would wake up and find this to simply be a dream.

Once they reached the bedroom, House propped his cane by the bedside and pulled Wilson to him, kissing him deeply, as if to commit his taste to permanent memory. He unbuttoned Wilson's shirt, and yanked if off of him, and then tossed his own sweatshirt off.

They pressed against one another, warm skin against warm skin. They stood like that for a moment kissing and hands exploring, until House's hand traveled south causing Wilson to moan intensely. House smiled into Wilson's mouth as he kissed him. And as if they were of one mind, they divested themselves of any remaining clothing and tumbled on to the bed, all warm limbs and touches and soft moans.


	8. Chapter 8

I know this is a short update, but I am in the middle of recommendatio-letter-writing hell and I have to focus on that, before I can get back to the good stuff!

The clothes had been strewn haphazardly around the room, and they were in bed exploring one another with abandon. They continued where they left off, House fighting for dominance; his hardness pressing against Wilson's, his hands exploring Wilson's body, his mouth searching. Wilson bucked at the friction and managed to flip and maneuver House off of him so they were lying on the bed facing each other. "Slower," gasped Wilson. "Or it will be over way too soon." House understood and once again explored Wilson's mouth with his tongue.

House's hands headed south, cupping Wilson's balls, softly stroking them. Wilson tensed and relaxed all at the same time, and began to slowly stroke House's hard and leaking member. House moaned at the touch and pressed forward to kiss Wilson. Years of repressed passion engulfed them, fueled them on. Each of them touching one another, kissing sloppily, as they bucked and groaned at each other's touches and strokes lost in each other. Moments later, the passion came to a climax, and they brought one another to simultaneous ecstasy.

Now sticky, they rested, panting, until their breathing returned finally to normal. It only took a moment for Wilson to realize House had fallen asleep. Exhausted from the day, Wilson thought. He smiled, and got up to find a washcloth to clean them both off.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Well this is it, the final chapter. I could keep going, but I think I am at a point where the story ends naturally. Thank you to everyone who has read and commented. **_

Wilson cleaned them both off, and left House to sleep. He pulled on House's robe, and went into the living room, stopping off at the kitchen to get a beer. He opened it and sat on the couch. He put his head in his hands, and began to mentally run through the events of the day.

He was unsure how long he sat there, until he was poked in the shoulder by a cane shaped object. He looked up to see House standing there, dressed in a rumpled t-shirt and pajama bottoms. His hair was unusually in disarray, due to the earlier activities.

"Hey." House said. He walked past Wilson and went to retrieve his own beer. When he returned Wilson moved over so House could sit down. They sat there in silence until House cleared his throat and began to speak.

"I know you're sitting here analyzing everything like we live in a fishbowl," he began. Wilson had to chuckle. "Am I that transparent?" "No," House said. "I just know you." He paused. "Nothing had to change . . . . I mean, you, me, this, it doesn't have to be any different. Except for what happened in the bedroom. I'd like to keep that, have it happen again?" He looked over at Wilson, trying to keep the smile from spreading across his face.

Wilson looked up from his beer and looked into House's seeking eyes. And he smiled too. "So," House said, relieved that Wilson hadn't gone all weird on him. "How about that Chinese food? All that exertion, now I am really starving!"

Wilson had to laugh. As he got up and reached for the phone, he jokingly jostled House in the ribs, which led House to smack Wilson playfully on the ass. The playfulness continued, after the food order was placed, leading to kissing and petting and the two of them behaving like sex crazed teenagers until the doorbell rang signaling the arrival of the food.


End file.
